


The Headmaster's Teas

by chazpure, smutty_claus



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Community: smutty_claus, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-25
Updated: 2007-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-02 12:13:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chazpure/pseuds/chazpure, https://archiveofourown.org/users/smutty_claus/pseuds/smutty_claus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Hermione realized Harry truly had no plan at all for finding the missing horcruxes, she knew she had to do <i>something</i>. At the very least they needed to do more research, and the best place for that was her beloved Library at Hogwarts. True, Hogwarts was now in the hands of that treacherous, traitorous murderer, Severus Snape...but Hermione <i>was</i> called the Cleverest Witch of Her Generation, after all!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Headmaster's Teas

**Author's Note:**

> Written by Chazpure as part of the 2007 Smutty Claus exchange.

**To: Leni Jess**

 

From: Your Secret Santa

 

 

**Title:** The Headmaster's Teas

 

**Author:** [Chazpure](http://chazpure.insanejournal.com/)

 

**Rating:** NC-17

 

**Pairing:** Severus/Hermione

 

**Length:** 12,800

 

**Warnings:** Hermione starts off as 18 in this fic. DH-compliant (depending on your interpretation of canon). Oral, wanking, some canonical gore.

 

**Summary:** When Hermione realized Harry truly had no plan at all for finding the missing horcruxes, she knew she had to do _something_. At the very least they needed to do more research, and the best place for that was her beloved Library at Hogwarts. True, Hogwarts was now in the hands of that treacherous, traitorous murderer, Severus Snape...but Hermione _was_ called the Cleverest Witch of Her Generation, after all!

 

**Notes:** Very Happy Holidays from Smutty_Claus to Leni_Jess! I hope this little tale pleases. A Happy, Smutty Holiday to you!

 

**Archiving:** Originally posted [here](http://www.journalfen.net/community/smutty_claus/83058.html?mode=reply).

 

 

*

This is getting us nowhere, Hermione thought, as she stared out the tent flap into the wet, grey woods.

Since Ron's departure, Harry had been even more surly and taciturn than before, and without a plan - any kind of plan - Hermione thought she would surely go mad.

They needed more information. They needed to know absolutely everything there was to know about horcruxes and Tom Riddle. What he might have used, where he might have hidden them, how he might have protected them. There had to be _something_ written about him, and something that could tell them how to destroy a horcrux without harming themselves in the process.

The only place she could think of that might hold answers was the Hogwarts Library. She smiled a little sadly, thinking of it, and knew that at least half of her desire to return there was the sheer need for the comfort of its book-lined walls. Still, the Library did house a vast collection of wizarding knowledge, and better still, at Hogwarts there was a portrait of Professor Dumbledore, who surely would have awakened by now, and who might be able to tell her _something_ useful!

It wouldn't really be that difficult, she told herself. She had plenty of polyjuice potion left, and that hairbrush she had taken from the dressing table in Fleur's room, mistaking it for her own during the flurry of wedding preparations. The hair in it was medium-brown and quite straight; it must have belonged to one of Fleur's cousins, or another of the other guests.

If she could manage to get away, alone, for just an hour or so...

She made up her mind and rubbed her eyes hard, reddening them enough to support her plan.

She found Harry moping on a stool in his bedroom. She bit her lip and put on an embarrassed expression, twisting her hands. "Harry? I... We need some supplies, and the newspaper. I think I'll go out and get them."

Harry looked up at her, then frowned. "I'll come with you," he said, starting to get up.

"No, Harry--" she stopped and sighed. "I just need to be alone for a bit...and somewhere that's not...here." She glanced at the bunk that had been Ron's and then looked away, biting her lip and giving a tiny sniffle.

"Oh...right. Well, okay, Hermione, but be careful, yeah?" He looked very concerned, at least for her safety, and willing to try for "sensitive," though it clearly wasn't comfortable for him.

She nodded. "Thanks. I've got polyjuice in my bag, and I'll be careful. Back in a couple of hours, okay?"

He nodded.

Hermione walked out into their private clearing, drank the polyjuice and apparated to the outskirts of Hogsmeade.

She had intended to walk to Hogwarts and ask permission to use the Library, but as she walked through the village, she began to lose her nerve.

It must have been a Hogsmeade weekend for the school, as she spotted several small knots of school-age children looking in shop windows and going in and out of Honeydukes. They were oddly quiet, in contrast to the high spirits she remembered from those weekends. It was very disconcerting.

Instead, she went to the Three Broomsticks and took a seat at a small table behind the door, ordering a pot of tea when the waitress came to ask what she wanted.

She sipped the steaming beverage and scanned the room, her heart leaping as she recognized Professors Sinistra and Flitwick at another table, talking quietly over mulled mead. They couldn't recognize her, of course, she reminded herself, trying to remain unobtrusive nonetheless. There were a few older students at some of the other tables - no one she recognized - and the general atmosphere was quite subdued.

The door swung open, letting in a gust of chilly autumn wind, followed by a tall man in a black cloak and robes.

Hermione bit back a gasp. It was Snape!

She huddled over her tea and watched, as Flitwick shot him a quick glance, then set his still-steaming goblet down and gave Sinistra a meaningful look. They both rose and left, walking right past Snape without acknowledging his presence.

Strangely, Hermione thought Snape had almost flinched. His face looked worn and weary, but he set his lips in a grim scowl and looked around the room, as if searching for something.

The students seemed to shrink in on themselves, and their voices grew even lower.

Snape held his head up haughtily and stalked over to a table near the bar. Rosmerta came up quickly to take his order and hurried back behind the bar to prepare it. Hermione caught an unusual fragrance and watched curiously as Rosmerta poured a steaming amber brew into a thick glass and took it to Snape's table.

"Here you go, Headmaster," she said, a bit more loudly than necessary. "Good, hot whisky for a chilly afternoon."

He glowered at her, then waved her away and sipped at the drink.

Hermione frowned. It couldn't be whisky; the fragrance was completely wrong. She knew she had smelled that particular aroma before...somewhere quite different. It was tea, surely, but a very unusual tea. How odd that Snape would prefer people to think he drank whisky!

That was surely the smallest of the man's enigmas, but it piqued her curiousity. She had wondered about him ever since that horrible night, but she had not wanted to bring the subject up with Harry, as she knew he would be completely unreasonable about it. Still, how on earth had Professor Dumbledore been so wrong about Snape? He had trusted him so much, asking him to find out what You Know Who was up to...even asking him to teach Harry Legilimency! Dumbledore had clearly been ill last year, but still...

And then there was that odd bit of news they had heard, about Snape catching Ginny and Luna trying to steal the sword of Gryffindor - and giving them detention with Hagrid! If Snape knew anything, he knew that the girls would hardly find that a punishment!

Hermione left some sickles on the table and rose. She had to think about this some more, and she needed a bit more ammunition.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

By the following Saturday, Hermione had made her plans and armed herself accordingly, after a quick visit to a shop her Great Aunt Elizabeth had always frequented, and another to Improbable Imports, a small, crowded shop on one of Hogsmeade's back lanes.

After making more excuses to Harry, she drank another dose of polyjuice and returned to the Three Broomsticks. This time, she ordered a pot of tea and a plate of tea cakes, but handed the waitress a small packet of tea and asked if she might have that brewed, rather than the house blend. The woman sniffed at her, but was mollified by the silver sickles Hermione slipped into her hand with the tea.

There were a few people in the inn, but no students, which Hermione had expected. Professor Hooch was there, though, drinking ale with a dark-skinned, athletic-looking wizard. Hermione didn't see any other professors, but she forced herself to relax and be patient.

She toyed with her cakes and tea for at least half an hour, and was about to give up and leave, when the door banged open and Snape came in again.

He was in a testy mood, she decided, as he didn't bother waiting for Rosmerta, but snapped, "The usual!" and sat down at the same table he had chosen before.

As Rosmerta hurried to prepare his drink, Hermione rose and went to the bar.

"Pardon me, Madam Rosmerta? I wonder, might I buy the Headmaster a drink?" she asked, striving for a calm, pleasant tone.

Rosmerta shot her a startled glance. "He doesn't care much for impositions, Miss," she said, "and he has his routine, you see." She held up the tray with the steaming glass.

"Oh, yes, of course. It's just that I wanted a word with him, and thought it might...break the ice?" Hermione handed Rosmerta a packet of tea and suggested, "After you've served him, would you brew a pot of that and take it to him, with my compliments? Not quite boiling, please; it's rather delicate."

Rosmerta raised an eyebrow at her, but shrugged and hurried back to Snape's table. Hermione sat down again and carefully took another sip of polyjuice from a small medicine bottle. She watched Snape glower at Rosmerta, but he took his glass and drank the steaming tea thirstily despite his apparent annoyance.

In a few moments, Rosmerta brought him the fresh pot of tea. Snape drew back with a startled expression, then said something to Rosmerta, who replied, waving a hand in Hermione's direction. Hermione quailed a bit at the fierce glare Snape sent her way, but then his expression changed to one of evaluation. She rose and went to his table.

"Headmaster Snape, isn't it?" she asked, inclining her head as gracefully as she could manage. "Jane Sedgewicke," she said, extending her hand.

Snape did not take it. Instead, he drew his wand with a slow, deliberate motion and waved it over the teapot and waiting cup. There was a brief glow as the contamination detection spell washed over them, then vanished. Snape's eyebrow rose.

"Miss Sedgewicke?" He studied her a moment longer, then waved a cautious hand at the chair opposite him. "To what do I owe this...interruption?"

She smiled and sat down, her heart racing. "Actually, I had planned to come up to Hogwarts and ask to speak with you, but I happened to notice your beverage of choice, and I recognized a kindred spirit." She hoped she didn't sound either too incredibly soppy or too smarmy, but from the look he gave her, she suddenly realized she must sound a bit flirtatious! Well, that could work. He _was_ a man, after all. He might be quite a lot older than Ron or even Viktor, but the basic principles were the same all over, weren't they?

Snape watched her carefully as he poured a cup of tea. His eyebrows arched at the beautiful golden colour and the amazing aroma in the steam that wreathed around them. He sipped it, and his eyes closed in pleasure.

"It's called the Golden Breath of Heaven Tea, or so I'm told. My Chinese is not particularly fluent," Hermione said.

"An adequate translation," Snape noted. He sipped again and his lips quirked in something very near to a smile. "You have excellent taste in tea, Miss Sedgewicke."

She inclined her head.

"Would you care for a cup?"

"That's very kind. Thank you."

Snape waved at Rosmerta, who sent another cup sailing across to the table. Snape poured her a cup of the fragrant brew and topped off his own. He settled back into his chair, sipping it.

"Why had you planned to seek a meeting with me?" he asked.

"I am working on a research monograph focusing on Scottish magical plants, and I had hoped to consult the Hogwarts Library, particularly the herbology records dating back as far as possible," Hermione explained, using the story she had planned out so carefully.

Snape tilted his head to one side, considering, then nodded. "The school Library is reasonably available to serious scholars, providing they do not disrupt the students. We are approaching mid-term examinations, but I will consult with our librarian regarding available scheduling. Would the week after next suit you?"

Hermione's heart leapt in excitement, though she tried not to show it. "If I may be so bold as to offer a return engagement for tea, next Saturday, perhaps you can let me know then if the librarian has agreed?"

Snape nodded. "That will be acceptable."

"Thank you so much, Headmaster," Hermione said sincerely, "It's most gracious of you." She looked at the clock behind the bar and did not have to feign surprise. "Oh, dear! It's rather later than I thought, and I'm afraid I must go."

Snape frowned, then looked at the clock as well and nodded. "I, too, have duties to attend. Next week, then, Miss Sedgewicke?"

"I shall look forward to it," she declared. Oddly enough, Hermione thought, that was quite true.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When she returned to their campsite, Hermione was both amused and chagrined to note that Harry had not had a clue how long she'd been gone. He was in one of his preoccupied moods, but glad enough to see her, and rather more than glad to see she had brought more food. She produced a copy of the latest _Prophet_ and a loaf of fresh bread, ham and cheese, and a tin of biscuits. Harry ate with evident hunger, and was apparently well-enough satisfied with her report of her "shopping expedition" that he never questioned how long it had taken.

Later that evening, Hermione checked her stock of polyjuice potion and was relieved to see she still had several bottles of it in her bag. She pulled out the stolen brush and examined it carefully. The hair all seemed to be from the same head, she thought, and there was more than enough of it to make several batches. It was the base she'd have to be careful about. There was certainly enough to get her through the meeting with Snape and her visit to the Hogwarts Library, but who knew how much more they might need?

The next week, she told Harry she was going foraging again.

"But, Hermione, I just went out the day before yesterday," he protested. "We can't need more supplies just yet!"

Hermione bit her lip and looked away. "I...er...I need some special things," she said, baiting the hook carefully.

"Special things? What kind of things?" He was getting irritated, which was all to the good, really.

"Sanitary napkins," she said primly.

As expected, it took a moment for Harry to translate that as "horribly personal female things I really don't want to know anything about, much less actually have to obtain," but when the penny dropped, he back-pedaled with a speed that was quite comical.

"Oh! Oh, of course. I...ah...well, just be careful, okay?" He was bright red and couldn't meet her eyes.

Hermione suppressed a smile. "Of course. Don't worry, Harry. I'll be back."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She was a bit surprised to find herself almost giddy with excitement as she headed back to the Three Broomsticks. She saw Snape at his usual table as she stepped into the cozy warmth of the inn. He looked distracted, she thought, as she felt the pocket of her cloak to be sure the packet was in place.

She went over to greet him. "Good afternoon, Headmaster," she said cheerfully, suddenly struck by the urge to brighten him up, if such were possible.

"Miss Sedgewicke," he acknowledged, inviting her to sit with a wave of his hand.

"Thank you," she said. "I've brought a different variety; I hope you'll enjoy this one as well." She handed the tea to Rosmerta and ordered an assortment of scones and tea cakes. Rosmerta rolled her eyes, but said nothing as she went off to prepare their tea.

When the steaming pot arrived, Hermione smiled as she watched Snape's nostrils flare, avidly inhaling its fragrance. She poured for both of them and waited for his opinion on the beverage.

He closed his eyes in pleasure at the first sip. "Silver Cloud Dragon Tea," he said. "I have had this one only once before, at a potions conference in Shanghai."

"Isn't it lovely? How do they serve it in Shanghai?" she asked, wanting to get him relaxed and talking.

Snape recounted the tea ceremony he had experienced at the conference, and their conversation naturally segued to discussion of the conference itself. Hermione brought up some new Asian herbs and potions ingredients that were just beginning to be imported into Britain and asked his opinion on their suitability for a number of applications.

She was surprised, when she stopped to consider it, at how natural it all seemed, and how very easy it was to talk with him. His eyes gleamed as he discussed subjects on which he clearly held strong opinions, and the scathing sarcasm she remembered so well from his classes was muted down to a pleasantly biting wit and a sprinkling of sardonic observations.

Keeping a careful watch on the time, she excused herself to the ladies at one point and took more polyjuice, then returned and dove right back into a discussion of the proper way to infuse dragon's beard fungus with dragon's bone wine, and whether the effects were worth the effort.

They had poured the last of the tea and made surprising inroads on the tray of sweets, when finally, Snape set down his cup and sighed pleasurably.

"I have spoken with Madam Pince, the Librarian, and you are quite welcome to use the Library at any time. I would suggest you give her some idea of your schedule, so she will be expecting you. If you would care to accompany me back to the school, I will effect an introduction."

"Thank you so much! That's wonderful news, and very, very kind of you and Madam Pince. I shall be as unobtrusive as possible, I assure you."

He did not offer her his arm, although Hermione had the distance impression he had been about to do so. They walked up to the school, still pleasantly talking about herbs and potions and a variety of other subjects.

Hermione caught her breath when they came to the gates, then coughed to cover her slip.

"It is rather imposing, on first impression, I'm told," Snape said idly, but his eyes had flicked sharply to her face.

"I've not seen it in years," Hermione said. "I transferred to Beauxbatons in my third year, and then spent my last two years at the Salem Academy. My family moved about rather a lot, you see."

"Ah. That would explain why I don't remember you at all, though we ought to have been at school together," he said mildly.

"I was in Hufflepuff," she lied, "but I'm sure you wouldn't have noticed me. I was quite a pudgy little thing, and dreadfully shy."

They made their way to the Library, and Snape introduced her to Madam Pince, who regarded her suspiciously, then allowed that she might be permitted to use the Library, as long as she informed Madam Pince of her comings and goings.

Snape left her to her research, and Hermione hurried back into the stacks. She pulled out a number of herbological references for cover, but focused her real attention on anything to do with You Know Who and all the tomes on soul binding and resurrection she could find. She jotted notes madly, keeping one eye out for Madam Pince, who had a tendency to hover, and the other on the clock. She allowed herself fifteen minutes' margin, and when her time was up, she thanked Madam Pince and asked if she could return later in the week. On impulse, she also jotted a note for Snape, thanking him for his assistance and letting him know when she would return.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

To Hermione's mingled amusement and annoyance, it really wasn't difficult to convince Harry that she needed "time alone," "a little space" or even "more...feminine things." He was generally morose, but seemed willing to accept even fairly feeble excuses from her whenever she wanted to leave. Probably, Hermione thought sadly, he kept remembering how Ron had left and expected her to abandon him as well. The presence of the horcrux was weighing on them both, and Hermione _had_ to find some way to destroy it.

Over the next few weeks, as autumn turned dark and chilly, heralding the approach of winter, Hermione made several more trips to Hogwarts for research, and quite as many just to meet with Snape at the Three Broomsticks for more tea and conversation. It worried her a bit, that she enjoyed spending time with him so much, but she rationalized that she was gaining his confidence, and that after months and months of living in a tent in the woods, she was bound to find _any_ intelligent conversation with someone else simply irresistible.

She had just finished in the Library one afternoon and was heading back down the stairs when she heard raised voices.

"I said I _caught_ the little beast red-handed," a coarse voice snarled.

"Indeed, Professor Carrow?" Snape's smoothly dangerous tone would have warned anyone they were on dangerous footing, but apparently this "Professor Carrow" was thick as a brick.

"Out of bounds! Stealing stores! And up to other trouble, no doubt!" Carrow sounded much worse than Filch on the trail of a rule-breaker.

"And you saw fit to administer...punishment? After I had _specifically_ instructed that _I_ would decide on appropriate levels of discipline in this school?" Snape's voice had gotten more and more quiet. "I think, Carrow, that you forget your place," he said in a deadly tone. "Do not require me to remind you of it. Do you understand?"

"I--"

"Good. Now then, as to Mr. Baxter, here...Mr. Baxter, you will report to Professor Flitwick for detention. Your assignment is to prepare a report on his thesis, _A Wealth of Charm_. I want twelve inches of parchment on this subject from you by Friday. Dismissed!"

Hermione heard a young boy stammer something, then hurry away.

Carrow muttered something and stalked away, but Snape merely sighed. She heard his footsteps approaching and backed up quietly, then walked toward him as if she had just come from the Library.

"Headmaster! Good afternoon!"

"Good afternoon, Miss Sedgewicke." He seemed to hesitate, but apparently dismissed any misgivings he felt. "Might I interest you in a cup of tea in my office?"

"That would be lovely," Hermione said. After what she had overheard, she was afire with curiosity. "I would like to freshen up a bit first, if you don't mind," she said, conscious of her polyjuice schedule.

"Of course. There is a lavatory just down the hallway. In the meantime, I will order our tea. May I expect you in my office in fifteen minutes? The password is 'wormwood.'"

Hermione took another dose of potion and made sure her borrowed form looked presentable for tea with Snape. She smiled a little sadly. He seemed to like her a bit...perhaps more than a bit; with Snape, it was hard to tell. She suddenly wished that she didn't have to do this in another woman's shape, that Snape could offer tea and enjoy chatting with Hermione Granger, rather than the anonymous Jane Sedgewicke. She sighed. Might as well wish for You Know Who to give up his plans and become a rock star!

She gave the gargoyle Snape's password and rode the staircase up to the Headmaster's office. As she entered, she heard low voices, and saw Snape speaking with Professor Dumbledore's portrait. He turned quickly and saw her. "Ah, Miss Sedgewicke. Right on time," he said. "Do sit down."

A lavish tea tray sat on the desk, and the steaming pot gave off a tantalizing aroma. Hermione drew in a deep breath, thinking this was likely a test of sorts. Behind Snape's head, she saw Professor Dumbledore smiling at her. The teapot rose and poured a stream of deep amber fluid into her cup.

Great Aunt Elizabeth had been quite a tea connoisseuse, and Hermione had taken great delight in bringing her samples of wizard-grown teas from around the world, the rarer the better. She had educated Hermione's palate as best she could, but claimed no one could truly appreciate the full complexities of a decent tea before the age of thirty, as it took that long for a palate to properly mature.

Hermione took her cup and inhaled again, then sipped. She recognized it, barely. It was wonderful tea. Full and richly complex, with a delicious, cleansing bitterness at the back of her palate. She swallowed and looked at Snape. "Mist of Nine Jades?" she inquired.

Dumbledore winked at her.

Snape's eyes narrowed, then he gave her that tiny smile. "Yes," he said. "I admit to some surprise that you know it."

"I've not had it before," she admitted, "but I _have_ read about it, and I believe I have smelled it once or twice." She tilted her head and smiled at him.

He sat down and offered her custard tarts.

She began to wonder if she could possibly be falling for him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The week before Hogwarts' winter hols began, Snape met her for tea at the Three Broomsticks. As they enjoyed a pot of Sacred Black Mountain, he informed her that, unfortunately, he had a number of other commitments during the holidays and would be unable to continue their meetings.

She was shocked to find herself disappointed, but thanked him for his kindness and told him the opportunity to research in the library had been priceless. As they were leaving, she impulsively said, "I hope we will be able to meet again in the new year."

Snape stopped suddenly and looked at her, rather taken aback. "If you care to return, Miss Sedgewicke," he said, "I believe you will find me here as usual."

"I shall look forward to that," she said. On impulse she held out her hand. "A happy Christmas to you, Headmaster," she said warmly, "And a very happy New Year, as well."

He paused, then took her hand gently. His fingers were cold, but a jolt of electricity shot up Hermione's arm at his touch. "Compliments of the season to you, Miss Sedgewicke."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Christmas was dreadful, and even Ron's return afterwards didn't help much. It felt good to be reunited, but the aftermath of the disastrous visit to Godric's Hollow stayed with her a long time, and their very close escape from the Death Eaters at Mr. Lovegood's didn't do much to ease her nerves, either.

They spend a great deal of time discussing the Hallows, which Hermione still had difficulty accepting as anything other than a fairy tale. Harry was nearly obsessed, and she grew very tired of hearing him and Ron discuss it over and over again.

It wasn't until she was brewing tea for them one day and ran across several more packets of the specialty teas she had obtained that she realized what was wrong.

She missed Snape.

She had never realized how much she had looked forward to their meetings, but she hasn't seen him for several weeks now. She had never tried to tell Harry about their meetings, and she certainly wasn't about to tell Ron, but she was convinced that there was far more to Snape than they knew, and that whatever he might have done, there must be some other explanation. She thought back to Dumbledore's twinkling portrait and made up her mind.

Winter hols would be over by now. She readied her supplies and told the boys she was going for supplies and to see if she could learn any news. Ron looked surprised, but Harry just shook his head at him and told Hermione to be careful.

She apparated to Hogsmeade, intending to head up to the school, as it was a Friday afternoon, but something made her pause and head to the Three Broomsticks instead. Rosmerta actually smiled at her, and raised her eyebrows toward Snape's usual table with a significant glance.

Hermione looked, and was surprised to see Severus sitting there, with a bottle of actual fire whisky in front of him and a half-empty glass in his hand. He scowled down at the glass and drained it.

Hermione handed Rosmerta a packet of tea and asked her to bring the pot to the Headmaster's table, then she went over to greet him.

"Happy New Year, Headmaster," she said quietly.

He looked up, startled. "Miss Sedgewicke? I did not know you were in town."

"I just arrived; I remembered a few things I had meant to pick up in the shops here before the holidays, but somehow hadn't the time, and I thought I might take a few more notes on the local winter flora for my monograph, as well." She sat down as Rosmerta brought their tea. "I hope you don't mind; I took the liberty of ordering tea. As a matter of fact," Hermione paused, mildly alarmed at herself, but pushed on through with Gryffindor courage, "I thought I might stay the night, if there is a room available?" she looked at Rosmerta and smiled inquiringly.

Rosmerta didn't blink. "Certainly. I'll bring you a key."

Snape's eyebrows shot up, but he got his expression under control again quickly.

Hermione smiled in thanks, then explained, "It's nice to have somewhere to leave my shopping while I make my survey."

He nodded, his gloomy mood descending once more.

Hermione poured tea for both of them. "This is Silver Needles of Heaven," she said, as the pale, steaming brew streamed into their cups. Snape drank with evidence of enjoyment, but he made no comment.

On impulse, Hermione put her hand on his arm. "Headmaster...Severus? Is something wrong?"

He jerked at her touch, but did not pull away, and looked at her in a way that made her wonder how long it had been since anyone had touched him.

"It is nothing..." he began, then snorted. "Well, that is not precisely true. There are some...complicated situations at the moment. They are...political in nature. It is nothing I care to discuss," he said with finality.

Hermione nodded sympathetically. She sighed, then said quite truthfully, "I do wish all this...unpleasantness were over, and we could just be...ourselves, live our lives."

Severus looked at her searchingly for a moment. "And what would you be, if you could? Or what would you do?"

"Much as I do now, I suppose," she answered thoughtfully, "but with more freedom and less worry...over my friends and the future. I'd study, research, write...travel...love."

He was startled, she could tell, but after a moment he covered her hand with his and said quietly, "As a scholar, you may well find yourself better off without such...entanglements."

"I think I am the best judge of that," she said, and without pausing for thought, she leaned in and kissed him.

He stiffened at first, then his lips softened under hers and parted for her questing tongue. She was not bold enough to slide it in, but she traced the outline of his lips and let the tip of her tongue dart across the hot opening, flicking swiftly against the tip of his own.

He broke the kiss and pulled back, staring at her, then said hoarsely, "Not here. If you-- not here."

Her heart was racing, and her intellect was screaming that this was a bad, _bad_ idea, but her body had taken control and would brook no interference. She took his hands in her own and stood up, staring down at him, both exhilarated and terrified by what she was about to do. "Rosmerta has my key," she said softly. "I'll tell her I'm expecting you."

She went to the bar, took the key from Rosmerta and headed straight up the stairs to Room 5. Once inside, she was quick to take more polyjuice, rinse her mouth thoroughly, and safely stow her bag in the wardrobe.

Minutes passed like hours. She wondered if he had left in disgust, or if he was merely sitting downstairs, drinking and waiting for her humiliation to sink in. Her heart was pounding by the time she heard his footsteps outside her door.

He turned the knob and came in, and without pausing for thought, she went into his arms and kissed him.

His mouth was bitter, flavoured with whisky and tea and an indefinable something else, and she savoured it as she would a delicious new tea with as yet unknown qualities.

"Severus..." she breathed.

He pulled back slightly and looked piercingly into her eyes. His own jet-black eyes glittered oddly for a moment, then seemed to soften. "Miss..." he began, then gave a wry smile, "Jane."

She suddenly wanted to hear her own name on his lips, but pushed the thought away. Her hands were on the collar of his robes, pulling it free, then reaching hesitantly for the buttons of his coat.

He took her hand and kissed her fingertips, then murmured something indistinct, and his buttons slipped free of their holes. She slid the rich black fabric from him, leaving him in a pristine white shirt and black trousers. She smoothed her hands along his back and shivered. He was more real, like this, when she could feel the warmth of his body, the play of muscles under the fine linen. He was no longer the unreachable Potions Master, nor the terrifying murderer, nor even the polite and witty companion of their afternoon teas. He was a man, and he wanted her.

She felt a thrill of power at the thought. Images of her first awkward experiments flitted through her mind, but there was nothing boyish, tentative or awkward about him, only a mildly alarming intensity, as he bent to draw her close and kiss her again. She could smell something warm and slightly musky, and proof of his desire pressed against her, hot and unyielding. His fingers slipped through her hair and traced a sensual line down her back, then he reached for the closure of her robes and slowly opened them.

She let the robe slip from her shoulders and pool on the floor, then kissed him again.

Somehow, they maneuvered to the bed. Her shoes went flying, as did her skirt. She pulled at his shirt until it came off over his head and ran her hands all over his pale torso. He was lean, not heavily muscled, and her fingers touched scars here and there. Black hair sprinkled his chest and ran in a line down to his belly, growing thicker where it disappeared beneath the waistband of his trousers.

Her blouse was open, and his hands slipped around to find the clasp of her brassiere. He smiled wickedly at her and she felt both bra and blouse slither off at his wordless command. His hand was on her hip, caressing her through the thin silky knickers she wore, and then those were gone as well, and she was bare to his touch and gaze.

She suppressed a shiver and reached for the buttons of his trousers. He lifted his hips to assist her, and they managed to dispose of the rest of his clothing with ease. She looked down at him, blushing at the state of his erection, which was hugely swollen and dark with blood. He looked an awful lot larger than the boys she had seen (not that she had _slept_ with them, of course, but proper research was quite important before embarking on field study!) although perhaps not quite as long as Ron, but she got the definite impression that he knew precisely what he had and how to use it, and that he never, _ever_ let it control him, rather than the other way around.

She reached out and stroked him, gently, and was gratified to hear him catch his breath. She wrapped her fingers around him and stroked more firmly. It was a bit messy, as pre-ejaculate was welling up from the head of his penis, but that made it much easier to stroke him - and apparently much more pleasurable, as he closed his eyes and gave a low, deep groan.

Boys, she knew from her reading, as well as her limited direct experience, were quite hair-triggered and needed to take the edge off their arousal if they were to have any sort of staying power at all. His penis was quite hard and hot in her grasp, the large vein on the underside throbbing under her fingers, and his scrotum looked very swollen; he was hardly a boy, but she thought the principle probably still applied.

She pulled his foreskin back gently, revealing the wet, purpled head, and slowly circled the pad of her thumb over the tender, sensitive flesh.

He groaned louder. "Jane, I--"

"It's all right, Severus," she said, twisting her fist around him and stretching up to kiss him again. "Let go," she breathed against his neck.

He panted and thrust with his hips, driving his penis through the circle of her fingers. She gripped harder and matched his pace. It didn't take many more strokes before he shuddered and his penis jerked in her grasp, then convulsively ejaculated. Thick, hot fluid gushed over her hand, but she continued stroking through the spurts, until the last few pulses ceased and his penis had softened.

He was breathing heavily and hanging his head as if ashamed. She reached for his chin with her free hand and turned his face to look at her, then delicately licked his semen from her fingers.

His breath caught.

"Jane," he said, with a note of wonder in his voice. He took her sticky hand and kissed her knuckles, then whispered a cleaning spell that removed all traces of his ejaculate. He turned her hand over and kissed her palm, then slowly and deliberately licked from the heel of her hand up through the webbing between her middle and ring fingers. His tongue traced around her finger tip and he slowly slid her finger into his mouth and sucked on it.

She felt a rush of heat and a quivery sensation run down her spine to her crotch, where it was answered by a throb and a surge of dampness.

His eyes glittered at her and he gently pushed her back onto the bed, then leaned over her and began kissing her, while his fingertips traced the shape of her breasts and circled around her areolas, teasing them into tight, twisted peaks.

She vaguely wondered, just for a moment, if her borrowed body was virgin. It would be odd, losing one's virginity twice, but she wasn't particularly worried about it. It was sure to be better than the last time, if only because both she and her partner knew what they were doing, this time. The last vestiges of concern fled as his lips closed on her nipple and his tongue rasped the sensitive nub, sending an electric jolt through her, all the way down to her clitoris.

He certainly seemed to know all about that, she mused, as his hand slid down the same way, cupped over her pubic mound, and then one long finger traced along her cleft. His fingertip slid in further to find the pulsing nub of her clit, and rubbed it gently.

She squirmed and made an embarrassing little mewling sound. Her thighs parted and she pushed her hips up, wanting more, deeper touch.

He bent his head to her other breast and suckled it, as his fingers slipped inside her, teasingly sliding just _barely_ into her channel and back out again, then back up to circle her clit, dripping with her own juices.

She gasped at the incredibly intense sensation, and he slowly, slowly drew one finger the length of her clit, then flicked its tiny, swollen glans with the edge of his nail.

She screamed and gripped his arms so hard she was sure she would draw blood.

He smirked, then kissed a line down from her breasts to her navel. His fingers slipped back down inside her, and his thumb pressed down over her clit, trapping it and rubbing back and forth.

She was gasping and thrusting her hips up, calling his name, "Severus! God, oh God! Yes, please, _Severus!_"

His mouth moved lower. His fingers parted her lips and his tongue retraced their earlier path, circling around and around her clit, until finally he closed his mouth around it and sucked.

She saw stars. She was babbling incoherently and bucking beneath him, desperate for release. His teeth grazed the tip of her clit and she gasped, but then he let it slip free and moved above her, holding himself up on his arms. She reached down and found him erect again. She ran her hand over her wet lips, then circled her palm over his glans.

He kissed her, and she tasted herself on his lips. "Yes," she breathed, as he positioned himself. "Yes, Severus!"

He slid into her wetness in one smooth motion, filling her completely, then slowly began thrusting in and out, gradually moving faster and faster and thrusting harder and harder.

She moaned at the delicious fullness, the slick friction of his hot, hard penis sliding in and out of her wet, sensitive channel. She arched her back and flung her legs around him, locking her ankles together behind his hips and pulling him more deeply into her. The change in angle increased the pressure against her clit, and she cried out in pleasure.

He kissed her, hard, teeth grating against hers. His breath was ragged and his skin was slick with sweat as he kept thrusting into her, over and over again.

She clung to him with arms and legs, kissing every bit of skin she could reach, but she felt something hugely powerful building, churning and swirling within her, a storm waiting to break. One of his hands slid down and his thumb slipped in to brush against her clit.

The storm was unleashed. Every nerve she possessed tensed and then sizzled with energy. Her muscles felt like rocks, then suddenly began spasming as jolts of fiery pleasure raced through her. She threw back her head and _screamed_.

It went on and on, until she wondered if some spell had gone awry and she was actually going to shake her body apart. Severus sped up, but his pace quickly became erratic, and then he stilled and began shuddering, and in the midst of her own pleasure, she felt him climax as well.

Everything greyed out for a moment, and when she came to her senses, they were both lying limply on the bed, soaked in sweat and other fluids. Severus's chest heaved as he fought for breath. Hermione's head was still swimming, but she reached over and stroked his face. "That was beautiful," she said, her voice rather more hoarse than she had expected.

He said nothing, but turned his face to kiss her palm once more.

Their breathing gradually slowed, and Hermione was suddenly conscious of the time. She got out of bed, dropped a kiss on his forehead and headed for the tiny bathroom. She used the facilities and was careful to take another sip of polyjuice, before rinsing her mouth and returning to him.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, combing back sweat-damped hair from his face with his fingers. He had already retrieved his trousers and put them on, and as she watched, he summoned the rest of his clothes and finished dressing.

She picked up her robe from the floor and slipped into it, then went to him.

"I'm sorry...Jane," he said, rising and cupping her face in both hands. "I have to go. I..." He sighed. "I wish things were different, but...they are as they are."

She pressed a kiss to his hand. "I know; you have responsibilities to attend to," she said. She pulled her bag from the wardrobe and reached into it, then pressed a smaller bag with the last of the teas in it into his hand. "We didn't have time to get through all of these," she said, trying to smile, "but I hope you'll enjoy them...and think of me." She told herself sternly that she was not going to cry.

"I...thank you. I appreciate the gift. I...wish you well," he said awkwardly. "And...if we do not meet again, please know that I do...care for you."

Hermione looked into his fathomless dark eyes and shivered. "Severus, I care a great deal for you, as well. Please...be careful?"

He laughed bitterly. "I will do what I must."

He kissed her quickly and left.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_Several months later_

Hermione stared in horror as Severus clung to Harry and whispered, "Look...at...me..." She was shaking with terror and grief, as Harry rose and stared down at the dying man, then turned to go. As he went back down into the tunnel, Hermione saw Severus's throat move convulsively.

Broken from her paralysis, she frantically pulled a bottle out of her pocket and poured the last of the dittany over his gaping wounds. "Oh, God, Severus," she whispered, her hands and voice trembling, "I'll...I'll try to come back, as soon as I can."

She wasn't sure if he had heard her, or if it was already too late. Eyes blurred with tears, she followed Harry down into the tunnel.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The scene was chaotic, Hermione thought, exhaustedly, but at least it was no longer a battlefield. Harry had gone up to get some rest, and Ron was with his family, grieving for Fred.

Hermione had been fretting about Severus in every spare moment she'd had, which sadly, had not been many. Harry's revelations about Severus's past and how much he had sacrificed for them all only made her grief and worry more intense. Her mind refused to accept that he had died, despite what she had seen. Surely...surely there had been enough dittany? It would have healed him...Mr. Weasley had gone without medical care for _ages_ when Nagini had attacked him...

She looked out toward the Whomping Willow, but her eyes teared at the torn turf and scorch marks where people had fought and died.

There was only one thing to do, she thought resolutely. It had almost certainly been too long, but she had to _try_. She took a bottle of blood replenishing potion and another of dittany and slipped them into her pockets, then headed for the Willow.

The tunnel seemed darker and longer than ever before, perhaps because she was so frightened of what she would find at its end. When at last she pulled herself up into the Shrieking Shack, she blinked in surprise. There was blood all over the floor, but neither a wounded man nor a dead body.

Instead, there was a bit of parchment on the floor. She picked it up numbly and read it, then read it again, uncomprehending.

_It's all a matter of time. You know about that Hermione. Don't forget when you met, and for heaven's sake bring ANTIDOTE!_

It was in her own handwriting.

What on earth...?

Her mind was racing madly. Antidote. When you met. A matter of time...oh, God, of course! She jumped up and hurried back down the tunnel as fast as she could. When she was back at the castle, she stopped. How foolish. She didn't need to rush _now!_ Now she needed to _think!_

She went back up to the Headmaster's office and found Professor Dumbledore's portrait looking at her. "Ah, Hermione, my dear," he said gently. "I am very pleased to see you again, dear girl, as I had nearly forgotten something I needed to tell you. Your intelligence and quick thinking have certainly saved many, many lives, and I am very proud of you."

Hermione nodded sadly. "Thank you, Professor, but...something odd has happened, and I think I may need some help."

"Anything I can do for you, my dear, anything at all."

"Do you happen to know where I might find a time turner?"

Dumbledore's white brows arched impressively. "As a matter of fact," he said, "There is one in the large case, just behind you there. Turn over the large astrolabe, and you'll find a small compartment that hinges out..."

He watched as she followed his instructions. There was a small brass protrusion on the back of the astrolabe; she pulled and it flipped open, revealing a velvet-lined compartment that held a small golden time-turner. She took it out and slipped the chain around her neck.

"Thank you, professor," she said.

"You do remember you may not tamper with the natural course of events?" he asked her seriously. "And you must not let your younger self see you!"

"I remember," she said, "but I _have_ to do this, for Severus."

"Ah, yes," Dumbledore said, and his smile was sweet and sad. "Poor Severus; he had a very difficult path and many incredibly dangerous and painful tasks to perform. Oh, I nearly forgot!" he said. "If you check in the desk drawer, on the right-hand side, I believe there is a message for you."

Hermione frowned in puzzlement and went to the desk. It was locked, but opened to her touch on the lock plate. The drawer was empty, except for a folded piece of parchment with "Jane" written across it in Severus's handwriting. Hermione shot a glance at Dumbledore, who only smiled kindly at her.

She opened it and read.

_Dear 'Jane' -_

 

I expect I that I shall be dead long before you ever read this, but I felt the need to express my sincere gratitude for your comradeship and compassion over this past year. I am not an easy person to know, nor am I a good or pleasant man, but I found a great deal of solace in our shared teas, and far more than that in the last encounter we shared.

I should also tell you that, as a Potions Master, I have an excellent sense of smell, and Polyjuice Potion has both a distinctive aroma as well as a lingering flavour that is not easily washed away. I confess I suspected you were in disguise from our earliest meetings, and your lively intelligence gave me several clues to your identity. Also, you may recall that I am a Legilimens and Occlumens of some skill.

I make no apology for my behaviour when last we met. Disguised or not, you are an adult witch and capable of making your own decisions, however ill-advised. From the accumulated evidence, I surmise that we both enjoyed the encounter considerably.

I do hope, for your own sake, that you will continue your academic and research career. I do not like to think of a mind like yours going to seed or gathering dust in some position that provides insufficient mental and magical challenge.

In many ways, you remind me of another brilliant young muggleborn witch I once knew, long, long ago.

My gratitude and best wishes.

Your servant,

Severus Snape

Hermione's eyes were wet as she finished the letter. She tucked it into a pocket and hurried from the office. She made two quick stops - to the Potions storage cupboard for supplies, and to Harry's room, to borrow his cloak, then she headed for Hogsmeade.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The world blurred around her, and when it refocused, she was right where she had been, standing beside the entrance to the Three Broomsticks, several months before. She clutched Harry's invisibility cloak around her and waited, until she saw a slender, brown haired witch wearing her robes come walking up to the inn.

She followed herself inside and waited, watching as she spoke to Rosmerta, then joined Severus at the table. They talked and drank tea, and finally, she kissed him.

Hermione's heart pounded as she watched, with the oddest feeling of jealousy, this strange woman kissing Severus! She watched her younger, polyjuiced self head up the stairs and followed, ducking into the room before the door closed.

While her younger self fussed about in the bathroom, Hermione opened her bag and carefully opened the packets of tea. She took a bottle of anti-venin from her pocket and poured it over the tea, following with a silent drying spell. With any luck, the antidote would have a chance to build up in his system, between now and the attack. It might buy him at least a little time. She hurriedly closed the packets up and returned them to her bag, just in time for her younger self to come out of the bath and put the bag in the wardrobe.

She was almost tempted to stay and watch, but decided she couldn't face it, not when her eyes refused to believe that it was _her_ in that body.

She hurried out, then headed for the Shrieking Shack.

She spun the time turner in the other direction, and the world swam again.

It was dark when everything stopped spinning. She clung to the wooden stairs and shivered as she listened for sounds from inside. There was Severus, talking with Voldemort...and now-- oh, God! Severus was fighting Nagini again, struggling for his life and losing! Hermione bit on her knuckles to keep from screaming as she relived the whole, horrible event.

At last, Voldemort made his exit, and everything was quiet. She eased the front door open and slipped in. She listened quietly, until she heard Severus's gasps, then heard her younger self, frantically promising to return.

She stepped into the room. It was empty, except for Severus, lying still on the floor in his own blood. The dittany had slowed the blood loss, but he had already lost far too much.

She hurried to his side, throwing off the cloak. She pulled blood replenishing potion from her bag and poured it into his mouth. His eyes were glassy, but she rubbed his throat, trying to make him swallow. At least some must have gone down, because the gashes in his neck began to bleed copiously again. She took a fresh bottle of dittany and emptied it over the gaping wound, sighing in relief to see them close. She poured the rest of the blood replenisher into him, and finally, _finally_ saw his mouth twitch and his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed.

He coughed, gagging up blood and potion, then drew in a long, gasping breath. She patted his shoulder. "It's all right, Severus. I'm here. It's going to be all right." She bit her lip, looking around. She couldn't apparate him to the Hospital Wing, and although she could apparate him to the gates and then levitate him the rest of the way, she was suddenly reluctant to do so.

St. Mungo's was right out, at least until she could be sure the word had spread about Severus's true role in the war, and that there were no stray Death Eaters who might come looking for him. She needed some place they would both be safe, somewhere no one would come after them...

Nodding decisively, she wrapped her arms around him, visualized, focused and apparated them both.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

They materialized in the sitting room of a pleasant cottage that Hermione recognized immediately, with great relief.

Her parents had owned the cottage since Hermione's second year at Hogwarts. They had chosen the vacation retreat on the Isle of Scalpay to be close to Hogwarts, should Hermione need them, or for that matter, should she need a place to stay closer to the school for any reason. Or so they told themselves. The truth was they had fallen in love with the little thatched cottage on a vacation trip and always dreamed of returning there to retire, some day.

Hermione managed to get Severus onto the couch. He was shaking and still coughing up bloody phlegm, but she got a blanket around him and poured healing and strengthening potions into him in between the violent coughing spasms.

At last, enough of the potions stayed down to do some good. The coughing stopped and he warmed enough to stop shivering.

She made tea and brought him a cup, sitting beside him and holding it to his lips. He sipped, then looked at her, as if seeing her for the first time.

"It's all right, Professor," she said, suddenly shy. "You're safe. You Know Who is dead."

He tried to speak and made a pained face. "Potter?" he finally croaked.

"Harry's fine," she said. "I--" She set the cup down and rose. "You should have better care; I'll go for help." She looked around distractedly, not quite sure where she should go, but feeling horribly awkward around him and needing to do _something_.

She started for the bedroom, to look for a coat, but he called after her in a low, hoarse voice. "Miss Granger...Jane..._Hermione_..."

She turned back, face flaming.

"I had realized...some time ago," he said slowly and painfully, "who you must be...but I couldn't...understand...why you kept...coming back."

She swallowed hard. "I wanted to," she whispered. "I...liked spending time with you. And then, I missed you so much, over Christmas...I had to see you again."

His lip curled in a bitter smile. "Happy...birthday...to me," he said, mockingly.

"Was it your birthday?" she asked. "You never said!"

"I should not have...given in to temptation," he said, grimacing as he tried to sit up. "But it had been a very long time, and...I am not made of stone."

"I know," she said. She went back to him and sat beside him, brushing his matted hair back from his face. "You're definitely flesh and blood," she said softly, then smiled ruefully, "Although you lost an awful lot of the blood for a bit, there."

Severus gave a harsh bark of laughter.

She rubbed gently at the crusted blood on his neck. "There's a nice, big tub in the bathroom," she said tentatively. "How does a good, hot bath sound?"

He looked up at her and she managed a warm smile. "I could wash the hard-to-reach places," she offered.

"I am well aware I am...an offense to the eyes and nose," Severus snapped. "But--"

"No!" she interrupted him. "You're not. You've just damned nearly died! And I thought you might like to soak for a bit and feel better!" she added angrily.

He had the grace to look slightly ashamed of himself. "I don't know that I could walk to the bath," he muttered.

"I'll help." She held out her arm and helped him up, then put one arm around his waist and draped one of his over her shoulders. It took longer than she had thought, and they were both sweating and out of breath when they got there, but they finally made it. She helped him sit down on a dressing stool and used her wand to fill the tub with hot water, adding a generous measure of her mother's favourite soaking salts, scented with rosemary and mint.

He was too tired and weak, or perhaps too pragmatic, to object as she helped him undress and eased him into the deep tub. Scented steam rose around them. He tipped his head back onto the high rim of the old tub and closed his eyes.

Hermione took up a huge bath sponge and lathered it, then gently swiped it over his chest and arms. He hissed a bit as the clotted blood pulled at his chest hairs, but made no other protest. Encouraged, she washed his chest and arms thoroughly, then gently soaked the horrible clots at his neck. His hair was matted with blood and dirt from the floor of the Shrieking Shack, and she had to be persistent and gentle to soak it free before trying to wash it properly. She rinsed the sponge and soaped it again, then washed his long, lean legs. She had him lean forward a bit while she soaped and rinsed his back, then eased him back and shampooed his hair.

He closed his eyes as she worked the lather into his hair, scratching his scalp gently and noting which spots made him wince and which made him sigh pleasurably. She summoned more warm water to rinse his hair clean, then rinsed and soaped the sponge again and slid it down his torso, lathering his belly and moving it down to wash his thighs and groin. She gently rubbed it over his genitals, and smile as his penis began to fill and lift.

As she continued to rub, his hand caught hers and stilled it. "Miss Granger," he said quietly, "the time for charades and other such diversions is past. I suggest you leave well enough alone."

She looked into his eyes, legilimency or no, and deliberately rubbed the sponge over his firming penis again. He gazed directly at her, but said nothing. She dropped the sponge into the water and used her hand to rinse him, gently working her fingers over and under his scrotum, making sure all the soapy residue was washed away.

He hissed as she wrapped her fingers around his penis, and his hand tightened on her free wrist. _"Hermione,"_ he said in warning, but she ignored him and began to stroke.

He groaned and threw his head back. She leaned down and kissed him, continuing her gentle rhythm until he tensed and bucked his hips, and she felt him ejaculate. He shuddered through his orgasm, and Hermione just kept stroking until he sighed and stilled, then washed him clean and rinsed him with freshly summoned warm water.

She bundled him into large warm towels and got him out of the tub, then cast warming and drying spells and maneuvered him into the nearest bedroom. After everything, he was weak as a kitten and not inclined to fight her. She got him into bed and drew the covers up, then, on impulse, took off her shoes and clothes and crawled in beside him.

She cast warning spells and wards, then checked the time. Voldemort had been dead for a good half hour, she reckoned.

_Thank God._

She curled onto her side and watched Severus sleeping until she, too, fell asleep.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She woke with morning sunlight shining into her eyes. She blinked and sat up, to find Severus awake and regarding her with an odd expression she couldn't quite place.

"Good morning," she said, sitting up. "How are you feeling?"

"I appear to have survived," he said. "In the...confusion of events, last evening, I seem to recall you saying that the Dark Lord was dead?"

"Yes," Hermione confirmed.

"And that Potter was alive and well?" he asked intently.

"Yes, Harry's well...now, at least," Hermione faltered, thinking about Harry's death and resurrection.

Severus frowned, confused. "You had better explain in detail."

"He died," she said, "Harry did die. But there was a bit of Voldemort in him, and a bit of him in Voldemort. When...when he killed Harry, the bit of him in Harry died, but the bit of Harry's soul in him was still alive, sort of a horcrux, really, and so Harry came back to life. They dueled, and Voldemort's killing curse rebounded and killed him, for good, this time."

Severus snorted. "Trust Albus...meddling busybody." He cursed under his breath, then sighed heavily. "And so I am the unknowing pawn yet again. Very much like Potter himself." He tone was full of disgust and self-loathing.

"You're a hero, you know," Hermione told him, putting a hand on his arm.

He scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"You _are_," she insisted. "Harry told everyone how you were working for Dumbledore all along! They know how you spied for the Order and sacrificed everything to bring Voldemort down!"

Snape glowered. "You should have left me to my fate, Miss Granger. The world is far better off without such a 'hero' as I!"

"Severus," she began, tenderly stroking his arm and leaning in to kiss him, but he pulled back and pushed her away.

"I suggest you get such foolish sentimentality out of your system elsewhere, girl!" he snapped.

"I only wanted to help!" Hermione protested, hurt and angry.

He snorted. "If you truly want to improve my feelings about this whole wretched situation, Miss Granger, then I suggest you get on with your life and take care not to waste it. Do not bind yourself by decisions made in the wild rush of prickly adolescent hormones." He stared out the window at the distant horizon, his expression bleak.

"It's _my_ life," Hermione began, taking his hand in hers.

"Then _do_ something with it!" he snapped, pulling free of her touch again. "Don't throw it away on foolish entanglements!"

Stung, Hermione got up and began pulling on her clothes. "I'm _going_ to do something with it!" she snapped. "Lots of things! And as for 'entanglements,' for your information, Ron _loves_ me!"

He sneered. "If that is all you want, then clearly there are no obstacles keeping you from it! Go back to your spotty, ginger-haired lover and your perfectly planned future and leave me in peace!"

Hermione paled. "You utter bastard," she breathed. Hot tears started in her eyes, but she shook her head to clear them. "Use the cottage as long as you like," she said bitterly. "No one will bother you."

She pulled on her shoes and apparated without another word.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_Twenty-One Years Later..._

Hermione apparated to The Familiar's Witch and checked into her room. Her divorce had been finalized last month, and now that both the children were in school, she would finally be able to pursue her own dreams.

She pulled out a scroll and unrolled it to re-read it again. It was very nearly as giddy-making and magical as receiving her Hogwarts letter, so many years ago, but far more exciting.

_Dear Mrs. Granger-Weasley,_

I wish to offer you congratulations on your acceptance to the newly-reopened Ambrosius College of Alchemy and Potions, Oxford.

Originally founded in 1289, Ambrosius College has recently reopened after...

She smiled in delight as she re-read it, then rolled it up and put it safely away. She looked out the window and saw the sun was only just sinking down into the west. She took a sheet of parchment from the desk and sat down to write.

_Dr. Emilius Browne_

 

Ambrosius College of Alchemy and Potions

 

Oxford University

 

 

 

Dear Dr. Browne,

 

I was immensely gratified to learn you had recommended me to the Board of Admissions, and I greatly look forward to commencing studies for the upcoming Michaelmas Term.

I have cherished our correspondence over the years, and I should very much like to renew our acquaintance and thank you in person before term begins, if your schedule permits. I am reliably informed that The Spotted Dragon has an excellent cellar, a world-class chef, and a full-time tea buyer. I promise to limit discussion of my offspring to a total of twenty minutes and four photographs, if I may have the pleasure of your company at dinner, tonight, ~~dessert and/or debauchery to follow~~.

I have taken lodgings at The Familiar's Witch, in preparation for the start of term, and I confess myself as eager as an eleven-year-old girl heading for Hogwarts! ~~...and as hot as a summer bride with her knickers on fire!~~

Very truly yours,

 

 

Hermione Jane Granger (formerly Granger-Weasley)

She sent the letter off with one of the inn's owls and fixed herself a pot of tea.

The reply arrived quickly, which was not terribly surprising, as his office was only a few moments away, by owl-flight.

_H - _

 

It's about bloody time you came to your senses. I will meet you at 8pm. You may select the wine.

~~And don't wear anything complicated.~~

S.

He looked far better than he had when she had last seen him. His hair was longer, threaded with silver, combed back neatly and secured with a rune-worked silver clasp.

He wore an elegant Muggle suit that fit him perfectly, but his entrance was as dramatic as if he had swept in clad in his former billowing black robes.

"Dr. Browne?" she said demurely, offering her hand. "It's so nice to see you again, after so many years."

"Ms. Granger," he took her hand and inclined his head. "You're looking quite well," he said.

He sat down and they simply looked at each other for a few moments. Then Hermione smiled broadly. "It's just wonderful to see you again, Severus!" she said. "Why 'Emilius,' by the way? You never did say, in your letters."

"He was one of my great uncles on my mother's side. I spent summers with him and my Aunt Eglantine a few times, growing up. He wasn't much of a wizard, but he had a certain flair. I thought it an reasonable pseudonym."

Hermione smiled. "When I read about the school in the paper and saw your new name, I very nearly didn't apply, you know!"

He arched an eyebrow. "Why ever not?"

"Well, you never said anything about reopening the great college of alchemy in your letters! And then the paper listed you as the new Dean! I thought..." she stopped and gave a rueful smile. "I thought perhaps you didn't want me intruding."

"I said nothing about it so you could make the decision independently, Hermione," he said quietly. "I had no wish to disrupt your life."

"I know," she said. She reached out and took his hand, rubbing her thumb against his palm. "Are you terribly hungry?"

"Ravenous," he said, looking deep into her eyes.

"Oh, good. Me neither," she said. "Let's go back to my rooms."

"An excellent suggestion," he said, closing his hand over hers.

Hermione apparated them directly to her small suite. She took Severus's jacket and hung it over a chair, then slipped off her own smart wool evening coat and hung it up.

"Would you care for some--" she began, but Severus stepped up to her and said, "Yes," and kissed her.

She had nearly forgotten how all-consuming his kisses could be. He held her tightly and kissed her as if there was nothing else in the world but her lips and the sweet wet friction of their tongues sliding against one another.

She wrapped her arms around him and deepened the kiss, nipping at his lips and swiping her tongue all around his mouth, collecting the rich bitter flavour that was uniquely Severus and savouring it.

He was hard already, the bulk of his erection pressing against her, hot and heavy. She slid one hand between them and cupped it, squeezing gently, then kissed his jaw and down along his throat, making him groan. He lifted her abruptly and sat her down on the desk, sliding her skirt up as he settled her in place. He arched an eyebrow at her garter belt, made an approving sound. He sank down to his knees, pulling her forward until she sat at the edge of the desk. A murmured word and her flimsy knickers vanished.

She leaned back, feeling deliciously wanton, and stroked his smooth hair with one hand as he kissed the insides of her knees, then worked his way up her inner thighs.

He breathed against her cleft, then ran one practiced thumb along it, pressing in just _so_ to stroke her throbbing clit. She groaned, and he smiled wickedly at her, then rubbed his thumb in circles around the swollen bit of flesh, until she was writhing and clenching her thigh muscles in need.

He leaned in and licked, torturously slow, along her lips, from bottom to top, then again, a bit deeper, and again, and again, until his tongue was flicking back and forth over her aching, needy clit. He slipped two fingers inside her and slid them in and out as he licked and teased her, then gently grasped her clit in his teeth and carefully scraped from root to glans.

Her fingers clenched in his hair, and her hips bucked wildly, pressing her tightly against his face. He lapped at her like a cat with a bowl of cream, and she panted and squirmed and cursed, then whimpered and finally begged. He rose back up, his fingers still toying with her wet, sensitive flesh, and she flung her legs around his hips and pulled him closer, reaching for the placket of his trousers.

The zipper purred and she had him in her hand, hot and heavy, droplets of precome seeping from his glans. She gripped him firmly and heard his breath catch.

"Severus!" She pulled him into position with her legs and guided him into her. He thrust hard, sheathing himself deep, and she locked her ankles behind him and jerked him deeper still.

"Oh, God, Hermione! It's been...Oh, _God!_" he groaned and began to thrust into her.

"Yes, Severus! Yes! Oh, _Severus!_" she threw her head back as he bent forward and fastened his mouth on her throat, sucking hard. The heat and pain bloomed and spread a burning tingle through her entire body. It rushed down to meet the pounding, throbbing, _aching_ tension that was building at her core, pulsing in time with his thrusts, with the beating of her heart.

He slammed into her harder now, shaking the old desk until the drawers rattled and the pictures on the wall swung from their hooks. Her hands were on his back, alternately stroking and clawing, and they were both panting as they headed toward climax.

Hermione's inner muscles tensed, then spasmed, and her whole body went rigid as her orgasm struck, blinding pleasure jolting through her and making her whole being _sing_ with the incredible, searing ecstasy of it.

Severus claimed her mouth again and kept thrusting into her shuddering body, until he gasped and his fingers dug into her back as he came.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sometime later, as they relaxed, curled up in Hermione's big bed together, Severus wrapped a strand of her hair around his finger and studied it. "Term begins next week. Are you quite sure this is what you want, Hermione?"

"I know it's what I want to try," she said. "We'll see how it goes, but one thing I am definitely ready for is a change."

"You do realize that I shall be utterly ruthless, should you undertake any of my classes?" he asked her, pulling gently on her hair.

"Going to be hard on me, are you?" she asked archly, reaching down and trailing her fingertips along a part of him that was indeed growing hard again.

"Very hard. Demanding, _merciless_," he assured her. "I will press you to the utmost limit-- oh, _God,_ Hermione!" He gasped as she ran the tip of one nail along the great vein, then flicked it over his piss slit.

"I'd expect nothing less," she told him, bending over to lick at him. "I appreciate a man who knows when to be firm, unyielding..." She ran her tongue around the edge of his foreskin, then slipped it back and took him into her mouth.

Severus groaned as she slid her mouth up and down on his shaft, running her tongue over the pulsing veins and lapping at his glans. She cradled his scrotum in one hand and rolled his testicles back and forth over her fingers, then reached behind it and stroked the delicate, sensitive skin of his perineum.

"You wicked little witch," he breathed as she continued to fondle and lick him. "Hermione!"

She gave him another arch smile, let him _nearly_ slip out of her mouth, then closed her lips around the head of his penis once more and sucked, hard.

He shouted and jerked, and began coming, filling her mouth with salty, bitter fluid. Hermione swallowed and kept sucking him, until at last he softened and slipped free.

She looked up at him and smiled wickedly, licking her lips. "So, you plan on being quite hard on me, do you?"

He gave her a small smile and nodded, panting for breath.

"Hm..." Hermione said judiciously, "I believe I can live with that."

He gave a tired chuckle of surrender and pulled her into his arms. "Good," he said.

~*~*~*~*~

 

The End

 

~*~*~*~*~

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave feedback [here](http://www.journalfen.net/community/smutty_claus/83058.html?mode=reply).


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